


Fade To Black

by brodinsons (aeon_entwined)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sex, Demon Blood, M/M, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:59:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2686919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeon_entwined/pseuds/brodinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ORIGINALLY POSTED: August 07, 2010</p><p>Sam finds another way …</p><p>This is for holydread, who wanted a bit of demon-blood-high!Sam + Luce, circa 5x14.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fade To Black

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twicefivemiles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twicefivemiles/gifts).



The demon blood courses hot through his veins, but he only wants _more_. It feels like he’s vibrating with suppressed strength, and he wants nothing more than to rip Famine’s throat out with his bare hands.

Both demons are prone on the motel carpet, a meager amount of blood pooling beneath their bodies. There’s blood dripping from his lips, too. Thick, viscous, and carrying the strong scent of iron with it. Disgusted, but shamelessly vengeful, Sam turns around abruptly as he hears the unmistakable rumble indicating an Archangel’s arrival.

The blond-haired figure is only to be expected, all things considered, and Sam gives the Devil a slow smirk.

“Here to mock me again, or are you just here to gloat?” he sneers, narrowing his eyes as he sizes the Angel up.

Lucifer gives him a thoughtful look, then cants his head in an eerie impersonation of Castiel. “I am not here to gloat, Sam,” he makes a face and snaps his fingers, dematerializing the demons and the blood with a thought. “Messy.”

Sam glowers at him. “Then why the fuck are you here?”

Unfortunately, the Archangel’s answer is lost as Sam realizes he can _see_ things. Two _massive_ shadows exploding from Lucifer’s shoulders, expanding to fill almost the entire space of the room.

At first, they’re indistinct, but the longer he stares, the more tangible they become, feathers and muscle becoming visible. _Wings_ , he thinks absently. _These are Lucifer’s wings._

Emboldened by the intoxication of the demon blood, Sam takes several steps forward. “What are you doing?” Lucifer’s expression and tone are not amused.

Then, before the Angel can move away, Sam closes his hand over the leading edge of Lucifer’s right wing and digs his fingers into the feathers and muscle _hard_.

Almost instantaneously, their positions are reversed.

Lucifer makes a completely inhuman sound; a high whine that has the windows shivering in their panes. And Sam’s nostrils flare, a sudden thrill of a different kind of power lancing down his spine.

“I can see your wings,” he states plainly, a note of possession leaking through his tone. “I can _see_ them.”

The Archangel growls something incoherent and Sam digs his fingers in harder. Lucifer’s knees buckle and he clutches Sam’s thighs, keening an entirely Angelic sound. That only fans the fire in Sam’s gut and he growls, getting his other hand in the Angel’s left wing.

This time, Lucifer howls.

Sam doesn’t say anything, even as the Angel nearly pulls his legs out from under him. He doesn’t know _what_ to say. But he knows he needs to act fast, take this chance before he loses it forever.

“You’re _mine_ ,” he grits out, keeping his fingers buried in Lucifer’s steel grey feathers. “You’re mine and I’m yours … ever since I set you loose.”

The Angel muffles whatever he was going to say by closing his mouth over Sam’s denim-clad hip.

Finally, Sam pulls his hands free and curls the fingers of his right hand lightly in the Archangel’s blond hair. “You’re on my side now,” he says shakily. “You’re with me.”

Lucifer slowly pulls away and rests his brow against Sam’s stomach. He had _never_ foreseen this; _couldn’t_ have. But there is something drawing him to Sam now that is stronger than anything before. “Sam,” he whispers hoarsely.

The human doesn’t respond, and they stay like that for several long minutes, trying to come to terms with the sudden shift in their respective loyalties. 

It’s Lucifer who moves first, closing his eyes and parting his lips to mouth at the hard line beneath Sam’s jeans, blatant evidence of the hunter’s confusion-driven but undeniable arousal.

Sam makes a quiet sound and pushes at Lucifer’s head, trying to get enough space to actually think, actually try and make sense of this. “No, Sam,” Lucifer murmurs, tone soft but not pleading. “Let me do this … I want to do this for you.”

And with that, all of Sam’s defensives crumble, leaving him pliant in the Devil’s hands as Lucifer struggles to remove his belt and push his jeans and boxers down his legs. The cool air of the motel room hits sensitive flesh and he can’t hold back the startled hiss of breath that escapes his lips.

Then, he groans low in his throat as Lucifer wraps a hand around him and works him, the motions cautious and experimental, but oddly finessed.

“Lucifer,” he manages, now bringing both hands to curl in the Angel’s hair, and leaning back to brace himself against the wall. “Why … _why_?”

The Archangel shakes his head, then tips his chin up and parts his lips again. This time, he moves his fist to the base of Sam’s length and swallows him down, nearly choking as the human presses against the back of his throat.

Sam makes a high, greedy noise at that, and unconsciously thrusts his hips forward, forcing Lucifer to move with him. 

Suddenly out of his depth, Lucifer swallows, causing Sam to moan loudly above him, then attempt to initiate a rhythm. He experiments, finding out which slides of his tongue cause the human to unravel under his fingertips.

He toys with humming, but doesn’t succeed as well as he’d hoped. So, he regresses to the basics; taking Sam as far down his throat as he can, and working what he cannot take of the human with his fist.

The final time he accomplishes it, Sam gives a startled yell and Lucifer jerks in surprise as a tangy liquid flows over his tongue. He freezes, completely unsure of what to do. But Sam’s eyes are closed and his face is turned away, offering no hints.

With a shiver of nerves, Lucifer swallows, taking as much as he can, then licks Sam clean, erasing every trace of what had transpired.

Several prolonged minutes later, when the human’s breathing has steadied and Lucifer feels he can stand without shaking, he rises to his feet in order to meet Sam’s gaze.

Both are silent for a long time, and the hunter has a difficult time maintaining eye contact, even though the Archangel seems to be looking to him for approval, or judgment.

“I think … I think we’re going to need to talk,” Sam finally speaks, his expression cautious, but vaguely hopeful, for the first time in months.

“Yes,” Lucifer agrees, taking a step back and glancing towards the window.

The hunter looks in the same direction. “I need to save my brother.”

Lucifer glances back at him, and nods again. “And so you shall.”

Sam gives him a calculating look, but takes it for what it’s worth. Then, he calls out before the Archangel disappears.

“How am I supposed to know you’re coming back?”

It’s silent for a moment, but Lucifer slowly turns around, then reaches out, placing a steel grey feather in the human’s hand. When Sam looks up, perplexed, the Archangel merely gives him a small smile.

“It’s a promise.”

Then, he disappears with a rumble of distant thunder, and Sam is left in the dark room alone.

But now, there’s hope.

Now, they’ve all got more than a fighting chance.

And Sam can’t help but smile.


End file.
